


All We've Ever Done

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d danced together so many times by now, and every single time had been special, because it had been the two of them.  Futurefic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We've Ever Done

**Author's Note:**

> futurefic, but spoilers through 3x01
> 
> An exercise in freewriting.  
> Title from BtVS 5x07 “Fool for Love” (Buffy: “You think we’re dancing?” Spike: “That’s all we’ve ever done.”) - and it would be horribly inappropriate except that _Buffy_ quotations are never inappropriate.  
>  A handy visual for you: http://www.metmuseum.org/about-the-museum/entertaining-at-the-met/dendur

The temple of Dendur had never looked better.

Blaine had only visited the Met during the daytime before, so he was used to seeing the huge gallery full of sluggish streams of museum-goers and almost overwhelming the small Egyptian temple illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the wall of glass beyond it. Tonight, however, it was masterfully lit in warm hues and dramatic sweeps of color with an eye to enhance the magic of the wedding reception taking place in the room. The gallery glowed and seemed at once more intimate and more spacious than it usually did. The tables twinkled with fine crystal and candlelight. It was magical.

Unfortunately, Blaine wasn't feeling much in the mood for magic. It had been an exhausting month at work with so many late nights and tight deadlines it felt like he'd barely gotten home at night before he'd had to get up again and go back for more, and he just didn't feel like socializing. He felt like sitting on the couch watching a movie with Kurt. Actually, he felt like falling asleep on the couch on Kurt's shoulder while Kurt watched a movie. The last place he wanted to be was at a big society wedding for some friend of Kurt's Blaine barely knew.

He’d tried to hide his frustration and be gracious, but Kurt knew him too well, and they’d gotten into a bout of sarcastic sniping that had left Kurt cool and distant in the taxi ride over and almost too bright in his glittering perfection once they arrived at the event. He was charming, he was cutting, he was gorgeous, and to Blaine’s eyes tonight he was just too _much_. He wanted the Kurt who let his hair get messed up, who tucked his bare feet against Blaine’s legs when they were cold instead of finding socks or slippers, and who ate Chinese with chopsticks from the carton on their coffee table with his shirt open at the throat and his smiles easy and generous. He wasn’t in the mood for the polished and practiced Kurt who came out in public. He wanted _his_ Kurt.

It had almost been a relief when Kurt had gone off to ask the bride to dance and had left Blaine to his own devices. Blaine chatted with Rachel for a little while, happy to talk to someone whom he knew like a sister, no matter how sparkly her own eyes were to be there, but then she went off to dance with one of their table-mates, and he went to lean by the bar. He probably should have asked her, himself; then he wouldn’t have been left alone.

He nursed his drink slowly and watched the party spin around him. Despite the obviously high price tag on the event and the hundreds of guests, it was surprisingly intimate. As many people were talking and laughing like old friends at the tables as they were dancing, and there were quite a few well-dressed children running around under the watchful eyes of various adults. It wasn’t as stuffy as he’d anticipated it would be.

Still, he was tired, and he was content to lean. He couldn’t help but watch Kurt from across the room, because even if Kurt hadn’t been dancing with the bride he still would have caught the eye. He was dressed in a devastatingly well-tailored suit in dark grey, and his waistcoat was in made of a brocade shot with metallic threads that flashed in the warm lights of the room. He was also smiling as he dipped his head toward Sofia as they talked, and it wasn’t his polite smile but very close to his real one, the one that lit up his face. Between that and the sure, graceful way he led Sofia around the floor, he was captivating. He was beautiful.

Blaine felt a pang in his chest that he was so far away and not just in feet and inches.

“Excuse me, but may I have this dance?” a voice asked from about the level of Blaine’s elbow. He looked down to find a little girl in a fairy tale froth of a dress with a big pink satin bow beside him. He wasn’t surprised, really; for some reason, he was a favorite of little girls at weddings. He’d worried when he was younger that they’d assumed he was closer to their age than he actually was, then he went through an even more self-conscious phase when he thought it was his height that made him appealing, but by now he’d just realized he must look approachable. Whatever it was, it was his lot in life. It could have been worse.

So Blaine smiled at her and said, “I’d be honored. I’m Blaine.”

“I’m Francesca,” the girl said and took his hand as he led her out onto the floor. “My mother says it’s way into the new millennium, and it’s okay for girls to ask out boys. My father says it’s not lady-like, and men like to be the ones in control. What do you think?”

Blaine blinked, but he believed in treating kids with honesty, so he answered her question without laughing. “I think if you’re lucky enough to know what you want you should go for it,” he told her.

“That’s what I think, too,” Francesca said. She held up her arms in proper dancing position. “You may lead.”

“Thank you,” he said as gravely as he could and swept her into the dance. He was pleased to find that she wasn’t one of the girls who needed to stand on his feet to keep up.

He knew it was rude to look at other people over your partner’s shoulder, even if your partner was about twenty years your junior, so he lost track of Kurt while focusing on Francesca for that dance, and then she asked for another, so he waltzed her around until they were both dizzy and laughing and very nearly knocked over a server at the edge of the dance floor.

Francesca’s mother came to fetch her after the waltz - he hoped not because she’d seen the near miss - and Blaine grinned his way back to the bar and got a much-needed glass of water.

Kurt was still on the dance floor, twirling Rachel through a faster song, and enough of Blaine’s bad mood had evaporated from his time with Francesca that he found his heart clenching at the sight of him. Sometimes he looked at Kurt and saw the same boy he’d met on that staircase at Dalton, and other times he was amazed by this handsome, confident man he’d become when Blaine had been too focused on the days to notice the years passing.

Blaine had first danced with Kurt as that boy, still a boy himself. They’d been hampered by stiff uniform jackets and nerves at the newness of it all, but they’d moved together so well from the start like they were born to it. If he closed his eyes he could still see the delight on Kurt’s face when Blaine had pulled him into his arms and could feel the fluttering in his own chest at how right it at had felt to hold Kurt close and sway with the music filtering through his phone’s tiny speakers.

He remembered, too, dancing with Kurt in front of the judging eyes of the school, taking an awful moment and making it theirs. He remembered the triumph of getting Kurt to look at _him_ instead of his classmates and then finally, finally to _smile_. Blaine had felt then that he’d swim to the moon or walk on his hands backwards up mountains to make Kurt smile like that. He still felt that way.

And then there was the first time Kurt had danced with _him_. It had been one of the New Directions parties the summer before Blaine had transferred, and he didn’t remember anymore whose backyard they’d taken over, but he did remember the smirk curving Kurt’s mouth and the spark in his eyes as he’d pulled Blaine out of his chair late in the night and had dropped much of the careful rigidity that governed his public movements back then. He’d flirted and teased his way around Blaine, his arms around Blaine’s neck and his body moving so fluidly against him that Blaine had been ridiculously relieved that the rest of Kurt’s friends were involved in their own alcohol-fueled worlds and wouldn’t see just how much his body liked what Kurt’s was doing.

It had been far from the last night Kurt had danced with him that way, but Blaine had gotten more used to it. A little more, anyway, enough that he could flirt and tease right back without feeling the need to drag Kurt into a dark corner after about thirty seconds.

One of his favorite dances with Kurt had been the first in their shared apartment, still full of boxes and the whole thing about as big as his mother’s walk-in closet in Ohio. It had been their first night together in a space that was just theirs, and Kurt had somehow found the tea lights and in total disregard to fire safety had set them up all over the cardboard boxes in their living room (slash dining room slash kitchen). They’d swayed to Kurt’s dreamy playlist for hours, just slowly shuffling together in the few feet of clear space, their eyes closed and their bodies entwined, before they’d gone to bed, to _their_ bed, and had danced there, too, celebrating being together at last.

They’d danced together so many times by now - as part of performances, at parties grand and intimate, at friends’ weddings, in back yards, on balconies, in Times Square at midnight on New Year’s, in the Hummel-Hudson living room - and every single time had been special, because it had been the two of them.

The song ended, and Blaine blinked himself out of the past and back into the present. He looked across the room to Kurt sweeping a courtly bow over Rachel’s hand as she laughed and curtsied, and he wondered what he was doing by the bar when he could be there with Kurt.

He left his glass behind and slipped through the crowd to arrive behind Kurt just as Rachel was introducing him to a friend of hers.

Kurt was shaking her hand and saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Kara. Rachel has told me _so_ many stories about you. Would you like to get even and share some stories of _her_ out on the - “

“Pardon me,” Blaine said before Kurt could ask her to dance. Kurt turned, his eyebrows raising, and Blaine found his heart pounding as he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

For a horrible second Kurt’s face remained in his polite smile before his eyes warmed. Then he shrugged his excuse to the women as he took Blaine’s hand. “Of course you may.”

Because something in the universe was on Blaine’s side, the musicians struck up a slow song. “Do you want to lead?” Blaine asked as he pulled Kurt into the center of the dance floor. It didn’t usually matter to either of them, but it seemed like an apology to offer.

“No,” Kurt said gently, an apology in return, and he slipped into the circle of Blaine’s arm. Blaine pulled him close and brought their joined hands to rest against his chest, pressing their cheeks together as they flowed into the music.

“I was beginning to worry I’d lost your heart,” Kurt said after a while, and the softness of his voice would have made it clear he was teasing even if Blaine hadn’t been able to feel the way Kurt’s face had pulled into a smile. “Your previous dance partner looked like she was going to monopolize you for the rest of the evening. Do I detect a crush?"

"She's six, Kurt."

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t going to ask you to marry her.”

Blaine laughed and pulled back to look into Kurt’s sparkling eyes. “I’ll have to break her heart, then. I’m taken.”

“Yes, you are.” Kurt smiled at him and then tucked his face back against Blaine’s. “Now dance with me.”

Breathing in the familiar, comforting scents of Kurt’s cologne and hair product, Blaine focused on the rhythm of the music and the sway of Kurt’s body in his arms. He knew every inch of Kurt, knew it with his eyes and mouth and fingers a thousand times over, and yet there was something new every time about holding him close like this and feeling the flex of his back beneath his hand and the warmth of his exhalations against Blaine’s ear.

“This is nice,” Kurt murmured, barely a whisper, and it went straight to Blaine’s heart and made it hard to breathe.

“The reception?” he asked like an idiot. “Or the dance?”

“Both.”

“Yeah.” Blaine guided him away from the edge of the floor and back into the center of the dancers, watching the lights and dresses sparkle around them. It really was a magical night, and Kurt was made to be in it, as much as he was made to melt under Blaine’s hands or to perform on a stage.

“Are you sorry?” he asked softly.

“About what?” Kurt replied, pulling back and leaving Blaine sorry he’d spoken.

“Not having this for us?”

“Am I sorry that we didn’t wait until we had enough money and standing in society to have a fancy wedding at the Met with four hundred of our closest friends and bespoke suits and the best caviar money can buy? Which, by the way, we still can’t afford.”

“Yes.”

Kurt gave him the most incredulous look in his arsenal and brought Blaine’s left hand on his lips to kiss the simple gold band on his ring finger, the one Kurt had put there in front of about fifty of their closest loved ones in a friend’s back yard in Brooklyn. It had been spectacular and had made their tiny budget look like it was five times larger than it had been, but it still didn’t compare in elegance to the room around them. “This is an absolutely beautiful reception, Blaine, but if you think I’d trade the last four years of being married to you for one fabulous party, you’re insane.”

Blaine somehow managed not to bury his face in Kurt’s neck or pull him into the tight hug he wanted to, because sometimes in the middle of the night he couldn’t help but wonder. Instead he kissed Kurt’s hand, too, even though it was the one without his own ring. “I love you,” he breathed.

His eyes alight with the intensity of the smile he was just barely holding back, Kurt replied, “I love you, too.”

“I really do.”

Kurt’s mouth lifted a bit more, and there was Blaine’s Kurt, right there, just for him. He squeezed Blaine’s shoulder. “I know.”

The song came to an end, and Blaine knew he should pull back or let go, but he couldn’t, and Kurt didn’t, either. As the musicians started into a faster number, Kurt raised a challenging eyebrow, shifted his hands so he was leading, and drew Blaine into a spin before settling into the rhythm of the song.

“Besides,” Kurt said with a grin before twirling Blaine out, “it’s something to look forward to when we renew our vows.”

Blaine was grinning like a fool by the time he made it back into Kurt’s arms.


End file.
